


The Feather Tattoo

by writtenndust



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:36:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenndust/pseuds/writtenndust
Summary: Rogers takes his new partner to Roni's bar.





	The Feather Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is, I had started writing it and it was sitting in my googledocs gathering dust, so I thought I'd edit it to finish up a small scene and post it. It was started before S7 aired, so if the description of Roni's bar is a little off, that's why.

A superstitious person, he was not. Not really. He stepped around instead of under the odd ladder, gave a sideways glance to any black cat that crossed his path, but all in all, he felt himself to be a fairly grounded, down to earth kind of guy. He enjoyed the concept of pre-destiny, though, even though he hadn’t really ever given it all that much weight. That was, until he’d stepped through the door of the musty, smoky pub. 

The lights were dim, the smell of stale beer and bar pretzels floating on the air with a heady touch of Coco Mademoiselle. It gave him pause for a few moments, as he stood there - a veritable silhouette in the doorway, backlit by the diminishing sunlight - before it closed behind him and he surveyed the room as his new partner made his way over to the bar. 

He was new in Seattle, the only people he knew being his new partner - Rogers, and the girl that winked at him every morning as he got his coffee - her name was Molly, she told him every day regardless that it was right there, on her name badge. But she was sweet and maybe he’d indulged her a little too much, even though she was far too young for him. To be desired was flattering, and after his track-record, it was just nice to see a pretty girl that was happy to see him every day.

The bar was a bit dingy. It was dark, with the bottles behind the bar stacked right to the ceiling against the mirror wall panel. Sepia stained photos in chipping wooden frames hung at awkward angles down a support beam in the middle of the counter and a row of string lights wrapped around the high, old wooden bar. It was quaint, if a little dated and he found that he liked it. It was a bit of a dive, but it had a lived-in, local feel and he could see why Rogers had harped on about it so much.

For a week, he’d been telling him that he was going to take him to his mate Roni’s bar. At the end of every shift, when he just wanted to throw on his jacket and drag his feet to his car to go home, Rogers’ voice caught him by the elevator well, stopping him before he could make a clean getaway with his gym bag over his shoulder and he was offering him a beer down the pub..

He’d been reluctant - but he had no friends in town and when Rogers mate Roni apparently made the best burgers in town, had the best live music, poured the best Guinness and apparently one time got drunk so blind they had ridden a horse down Main street completely naked, Rob decided he had to meet the guy - if only to get Rogers to let up.

There were only a few patrons wandering about - the jukebox was quietly playing Sweet Caroline and there was a large guy that Rob saw pull a towel from his shoulder and move a couple of bowls of pretzels aside to wipe down the table. Rob’s nose turned up - the guy was huge, his broad chest pulling on the buttons of his shirt, head shaved completely bald and a scraggly beard that reached down to his third button. The earrings didn’t help to soften his image, and Rob started to wish for a bottle of bleach to wash the image of that guy, naked on a horse, from his mind.

“Roni? I assume?” He questioned and Rogers looked over his shoulder at the burly man again, furrowing his brow as he rested his elbows on the old wood of the bar.

“No.” He stated matter of factly, grinning then when a woman appeared from behind the bar.

His breath caught in his throat. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She had thick, dark curly hair that reached just below her ears and a leopard spot dress that hugged her entire body like a glove. She wore a short denim jacket over the top, had full, port-wine lips and leather boots that hugged athletic calves.

“That’s Roni?” He turned to Rogers for just a moment, wanting to see the man’s response in real time, and Rogers was just smirking. He decided he didn’t need the brain bleach after all - because the image of that woman going full Godiva down main street was something he wholeheartedly wished he’d been witness to.

“Veronica Miller, my new partner Rob Locke, he’s just transferred in from Maine. Rob, this is my mate Roni.” He introduced and he just blinked, staring at her for a long moment.

“Nice to meet you, Rob.” She smiled, picking up a glass and wiping it with a cloth as she spoke.

“Drinks please.” Rogers grinned and she just rolled her eyes, throwing her towel over her shoulder as she turned to reach for a bottle and glass that were sitting on the bench behind her.

“Rogers here, likes rum.” She smirked in Rob’s direction. “What would you like?”

“Just a beer, please.”

She nodded as she passed Rogers his glass before reaching for a schooner and tilting it to pull on the tap. He watched her, mesmerised by every movement of her lips, her body, her whole being. 

She was stunning.

He wasn’t a superstitious man. He didn’t put much stock in pre-destiny or deja vu - but when she reached for the bar tap, pulling it back towards her as she tilted his glass, he couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of her wrist. Just there, underneath the edge of her rolled back denim sleeve, was a small, pretty feather tattoo.

Something flashed before his eyes, an image, maybe. It was strange, like he’d seen an image of her before, but that small, feather tattoo suddenly burned into his mind and he couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling that it meant something. It was important. 

An image of an old woman in a tattered old tent at the fairground when he was a boy, speaking of soulmates and signs, came to mind. She’d said he’d one day meet a woman, a woman with a feather tattoo. She’d shown him a small glimpse in her crystal ball. He’d thought it all hokum - he was only twelve at the time and he didn’t really want to hear about potential future girlfriends - but then he’d seen an image of a woman’s wrist, pulling at the handle of a bar-tap to reveal a delicate feather against soft, olive skin; it had sent a chill through him. He’d always thought you weren’t really able to see anything, in those crystal balls. But even though he’d gone into that tent with a healthy level of scepticism, he’d never been able to shake the image of the woman’s delicate wrist.

She smiled as she rested the glass before him, her lips pursed and her dark, chestnut eyes watching him closely. He could feel his heart racing, his throat went dry and there was a slight shake to his hands as he reached for the glass to take a sip.

"You guys hungry?" 

"Famished." Rogers answered, and in his obliviousness to Rob's pounding heart, ordered them Beef Burgers with the lot.

"Coming right up." She winked and Rob was sure his heart all but stopped as he watched her step away and disappear from sight.

"She's,"

Rogers was grinning beside him like an idiot. "I know."

"She's," He wasn't really able to say anything more.

"Single?" Rogers roughly slapped him on the shoulder and Rob woke up, blinking, stunned. "Oh yes."

Fin.


End file.
